The Melting Pot of Madness
by x-NewGirlInTown-x
Summary: This will be my collection of entries for the HPFC forum-wide competition. All chapters will be HP, please take the time to RxR. And come on Gryffindor!
1. On a scale of one to ten

The **HPFC** forum-wide competition has officially begun! :D

I'm batting for **Gryffindor** ;) Good luck to everyone else too, though - I look forward to reading as many entries as I can! :)

My prompt was **scale**, and without further ado, I give you the result...

* * *

**On a scale of one to ten...**

Ever since she could remember, Lily Evans had judged things using scales. Lots of scales. No matter what the situation was, Lily had a scale for it.

"On a scale of one to ten, mummy, how hard do you think the work at Hogwarts..."

"On a scale of one to five, I'd only give it around a two...Amos just wasn't that interesting, Ali..."

"Yes, I know I don't have to be perfect at Charms, Professor Flitwick, but I just thought some extra practice might help...I mean, if you look at my abilities just now, on a scale of one to ten, I'm only around a seven..."

You see, scales worked for Lily. They were consistent, they were clear. Scales let Lily know exactly where she stood in life - there was no nonsense, no confusion, just the facts. Plain and simple.

Which was exactly how she liked things.

And then - _of course_ - she met James Potter.

Someone whose attitude and way of life was so completely alien to Lily that he might as well have been covered in scales, for all she cared!

Consistently annoying and so clearly insane, James couldn't have been more different from his red-headed rival. He lived for the nonsense he caused on a daily basis, thrived on the confusion and awe he left in his wake. In James Potter's life, nobody was plain. And nothing - absolutely _nothing_ - was simple.

So naturally, he took great pride and pleasure sending Lily's perfectly scaled world shattering into oblivion.

_Toerag._

Because, you see, the problem with Potter was that he just wouldn't _fit_ on her scales, would he?

On a scale of one to ten of how annoying she found him, she just couldn't help it - she had to say eleven.

On a scale of one to five, five being the most infuriating a person could be, James Potter was a definite six.

And on a scale of one to...two...of how attractive she found him, he was...three. Three and a half, maximum.

And 3.5 wasn't really that high a number, was it? Of course not!

Well, at least, not if you looked at things on a grander scale...


	2. Dragons

**A/N:** Well, here it is, folks. Entry number 2 in the **HPFC Forum-Wide Competition**.

I'm with **Gryffindor**, obviously - after all, I like nothing but the best ;)

This time the challenge was to write a fic centred around 2 characters, one of which had to be from your house. I (perhaps stupidly, given that I've never written either of them before, and they both are given pretty distinct characters in the books) decided to choose **Harry Potter** and **Minerva McGonagall.** I know points-wise, it might not have been my safest bet, but hey! We're all here to be challenged, and improving my writing is the most important thing for me.

Anyway, hopefully it isn't too bad. This is a little 'what-if' moment that I imagined, and it slots into the Goblet of Fire. At around Page 303 (I checked :P - maybe a little sad, I know, but I like to keep details and canon as consistent as possible) as long as you pretend Harry had a Transfiguration class in between Divination and dinner :) Imaginations at the ready? Then here we go! :D I hope you enjoy it...

* * *

Dragons. _Dragons. _

A small part of Harry argued that he should be grateful to Hagrid for showing him what was coming - because in truth, he had absolutely no idea how he would have reacted if he'd turned up at the task tomorrow and been faced with _that _for the very first time. Probably fainted or something, if he was honest with himself - which would not only have been extremely embarrassing, but also would have been another golden opportunity for Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherins to flash him a wave of "**Potter Stinks**." So that small part of him told him to count his blessings, look on the bright side, and be grateful that he knew...

A much larger part of him, however, told him to hate Hagrid with all that he had.

Well, not really. Deep down, Harry knew his friend had only been trying to help, but...

Every time he even so much as thought the word, it sent an ice-cold shiver running straight through his body.

_Dragons_. Actual, no doubt about it, fire-breathing _dragons_.

A feeling of completely uncontrollable panic, one that he had gotten more than familiar with since Hagrid's reveal, threatened to overwhelm him as he considered the magnitude of what he was going to have to face tomorrow. More than anything, he wanted to curse the person who'd someone managed to trick the Goblet into picking him as a Champion.

After all, he hadn't even wanted to enter the Tournament, not really. And now...it was going to kill him.

_Dra-_

"Excuse me, Mr Potter, but am I boring you?"

Professor McGonagall's voice, her annoyance as sharp as the crack of a whip, interrupted his thoughts. Harry jumped back into the present, glancing hurriedly towards Hermione, who widened her eyes exasperatedly and mouthed '_say_ something!'

"Ummm...no, Professor." He raised his eyes slowly to meet hers, and kicked himself for not sounding more convincing. Her mouth drew into a grim line, and she quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Well, Mr Potter, as convincing as that sounds, I think it would be beneficial for you to wait behind after class. So you can explain _properly_ why you were paying absolutely no notice to my lesson. Now, as I was saying..."

Great. Just _great_. A week's worth of detention was just what he needed to combat the fear of impending death. Not only that, but he could feel Hermione's glare cutting into the side of his head - he'd just reduced the precious little time they had left to practice Summoning before tomorrow, and, as both of them were no doubt painfully aware, Harry needed every second they could get.

So from that point onwards, not wanting to do anything more to prolong the lecture, Harry tried his hardest to look as though he was concentrating on the lesson. They were supposed to be turning pygmy puffs into feather pillows, but Harry couldn't focus. He eventually managed to stun the creature, and then jabbed randomly at it with his wand while Hermione looked on disapprovingly. She was already putting the finishing touches on her pillow's pattern, and he just imagine what she'd be saying to him right now, if she had the chance.

"Honestly, Harry, you _need_ to focus! If you aren't able to do a simple Switching Spell when we've been practising for weeks now, then how do you expect to know the Summoning Charm by tomorrow?"

She would have been right, as always. But Harry didn't see the point in _trying_ to focus when he knew it was hopeless. And, despite Moody's best efforts to help him, he was losing faith in the Summoning Charm fast. All lunch they'd practised, and every single time he'd failed. To him, it was looking less and less like a question of whether he could beat the dragon, and more and more like a matter of how long he could stay alive against it.

Harry gave his pygmy puff another particularly fierce jab, muttering to himself, his mind elsewhere, and tried not to take it as too much of a bad omen when it subsequently burst into flames.

X X X

After everyone else had left the classroom, Harry approached McGonagall's desk, already dreading the lecture she was sure to give him. He'd managed to destroy _another_ pygmy puff before the end of the lesson, much to his chagrin - he should have been able to complete that task easily, and it wasn't _their_ fault he was distracted - and both times, in amongst the squeals of horror from Lavender Brown and the rest of the females in the class, he'd felt her eyes firmly trained on him, her features pulling into a frown.

Surprisingly, though, she didn't appear to be angry as she looked up at him from her chair. Instead, her gaze was penetrating, as though she were peering directly over her square-rimmed spectacles and straight into his soul, searching for answers Harry felt sure he didn't have. He shifted uncomfortably, and cleared his throat, hoping she'd move quickly through her reprimand so he could go and find Hermione.

"Are you nervous about the task tomorrow, Potter?" Harry blinked, caught off guard. That hadn't been what he'd expected her to say. And yet, her eyes were still piercing his, and she seemed expectant, as though waiting for some kind of confirmation.

"I haven't really thought about Professor." A lie, of course. Knowing what he knew, he didn't know how he could be expected to think about anything else. _Dragons!_ It rang through his mind once again, and Harry shook himself slightly. He needed to focus.

"Oh really? So I assume you have another completely acceptable reason for daydreaming during my class then?"

"Errrr..."

She waited, and Harry could have sworn he saw a hint of a smirk curling at the corner of her mouth.

"Well, I am a bit nervous actually, Professor." A bit? He was facing _dragons_, for God sake!

Professor McGonagall paused for a moment, understanding flashing briefly in her eyes, as though it was exactly the answer she'd been expecting. Harry couldn't help but feel a little flash of indignance inside of him - did she really think he was that weak? - but it quickly changed to a spark of hope. Maybe sympathy meant she'd let him off with just _one_ detention, instead of a whole week's worth...

"Do you remember what the sorting hat said the qualities of a Gryffindor were during your sorting, Mr Potter?"

"Errr..." Another curveball. Harry stared at her blankly for a second, casting his mind back to that night (which seemed forever ago now) and the song he'd been enthralled by as it poured from the rim of a dirty old hat...

_"__You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart"_

"Bravery?" he questioned, still wondering where on Earth she was heading with this. No doubt Hermione would shake her head and sigh at him when he told her about it later ("_Really_, Harry! Are you _blind_?") but he honestly didn't have a clue how bravery had anything to do with him being kept behind for not paying attention. And, in his defence, he did have much bigger things to think about.

_Much_ bigger things. With claws, and spikes, and fire flaring from their mouths...

"Exactly!" McGonagall's exclamation interrupted his vision, and his eyes leapt back to hers. He was relieved to find her looking pleased with him - thank God he'd actually found the sorting interesting and paid attention! And speaking of...

Harry forced himself to focus and put all thoughts of..._dragons_...to the back of his mind as the Professor went on.

"For centuries, their bravery and courage have been what sets Gryffindors apart from those in the other houses." Her voice was lower now, and had taken on a softer edge than he was used to. Harry's confusion deepened, and continued only further as he searched her face for some inclination as to what was going on. Was he mistaken, or were those _tears_ glistening behind her glasses?

"It's bravery, Harry - bravery even in the face of the greatest unknown - that defines a true Gryffindor." Even though she spoke quietly, her words rang with pride, and Harry knew how much it meant to her to run this house, the house she herself had been sorted to some years ago.

"And, well...my own house and all...some might feel it inappropriate, but...well, I just felt you should know that you, my boy, are one of the bravest people I have ever met."

She hesitated for a moment, and Harry felt the shock register in his brain that instead of punishing him for daydreaming, she was actually complimenting him. His shock intensified when he saw the corner of her mouth tug up into a sad smile, and her misty-eyed gaze met his once more.

"Just like your parents, in that respect."

_Oh._

_...Wow._

McGonagall thought he was like his mum and dad. She'd known James and Lily, and liked them (_obviously_, given the way she was acting now) and, she thought Harry was like them. Strong. Fearless. Brave enough to face even the unknown (well, at least she _thought_ it was unknown - no need to tell her differently and mar this moment with a month of detentions) with dignity. With courage.

Just like they had.

Harry had lived his whole life without his parents, never hearing about them from the Dursleys, never knowing what they were like. When he'd come to Hogwarts, the revelation that they were truly great wizards had made him happier than he had ever been. To know that he was the son of strong, decent people, people who'd been brave enough to sacrifice their lives for him, for Wizardkind...it had filled him with pride just to know they'd existed, even if he'd never had the chance to know them himself. But now, to hear the Professor say she thought he, Harry, was like them, even so much as a shadow of what they had been...

Even Harry himself was surprised by how much that simple sentence meant to him.

"Ehh...thanks, Professor." His own voice sounded a bit thick now, and Harry swallowed loudly, feeling the awkwardness of the situation rising up on him again. The rather audible sound seemed to snap McGonagall out of her bittersweet moment of nostalgia and, no doubt feeling it too, she stood up, suddenly brisk again.

"Yes, well...you also share your father's panache for daydreaming and getting into trouble, Mr Potter, but we can discuss _that_ at a later date." Her eyes narrowed infinitesimally, and Harry gulped again, although he was careful to do it more quietly this time. Probably best not to draw attention to himself, and hope that by some miracle, she'd have forgotten about that by the time the task was over.

If by some miracle he _survived _the task, that was.

Mad-Eye had given him some help with what he needed to do, at least, so he wasn't completely unprepared - just unable to do it, with less than 24 hours to go. Still, Professor McGonagall's words had awakened new hope in him, and Harry knew that he would just have to try his best, and if all else failed, use his courage. He was a Gryffindor, after all. He had to have the qualities the Sorting Hat had talked about, or it would have put him Slytherin despite his protests.

For the 3rd time that day, Professor McGonagall's voice cut into his mind, and brought Harry out of his musings and back into her office. She was now standing, on the same side of the desk as him, her body facing his slightly.

"Not that I want to seem like I'm favouring my own House, but I really do hope you do well tomorrow, Potter." She offered him a brief smile, and Harry returned it, still wondering if she was really going to let him leave now, punishment-free.

"I believe it's muggle custom to knock on wood for luck," she added abruptly, her eyes glinting with something indecipherable at she tapped her palm twice on the mahogany desk beside them. "Good luck, Mr Potter. I'll see you tomorrow." And the she turned on her heel and was gone, her robes swishing behind her as she shut the door.

Harry stood, bemused for a few seconds at the strange occurrence that had just taken place, and then rolled his neck a few times, trying to prepare himself for what he felt sure would need to be an all-night Charms lesson with Hermione. It was on his second roll that he noticed a tiny slip of parchment sitting on the edge of McGonagall's desk. It was in exactly the spot that she'd tapped her hand on just a few seconds before, though Harry was sure it hadn't been there until she'd done so. His curiosity piqued, he reached out and picked it up, turning it over a few times in his hands.

It was a piece of parchment, folded in half. Intrigued as to why McGonagall would leave it in a place he was sure to see it when she knew he was bound to pick it up, Harry unfolded the small rectangle, and then grinned.

There, in the middle of the rectangle, in what he knew to be none other than the Professor's own handwriting - he _had_ had a few detentions off her in the past, after all - was a single word:

**Dragons.**

It seemed that Hargrid and Professor Moody weren't the only teachers in the school who wanted him to succeed. Feeling touched by the risk she had taken in telling him, and his heart swell in the knowledge that there would be at least four people in the crowd tomorrow who weren't sporting a badge that bore the logo '**Potter stinks**'(or '**Potter Really Stinks**',in the case of the Creevey brothers) Harry turned and left the classroom, tucking the slip of paper into his robes. For now, he would forget about tomorrow: the dragons, the danger, and just focus on what was important right now - finding Hermione, and mastering the Summoning Charm if it killed him.

* * *

**A/N:** A lot longer than my last entry, hopefully you didn't think it was just drivel! Read and Review please! :)


	3. It's good to have options

**A/N:** Ohhhh, it's entry three for the **Forum-Wide Competition** over at HPFC - man, am I loving this! :)

I'm all about **Gryffindor** pride - go the Lions! :)

For this fic I chose **prompt table 8**:

**|SET EIGHT (a.k.a When Schermionie Has Writers Block)|**

lack of ideas

difficulties

fortunately

unfortunately

*insert stream of expletives here*

bright spark

This is my first attempt at Ron, and Ron/Hermione, so any feedback would really be appreciated! The main focus of the story is on Ron's attempts to write his vows.

Also, thanks go to **Persephone's Flower**, who did a great job in beta'ing this fic, and helping me make it better than it was originally :) Hope you enjoy!

* * *

"Arghhh!"

Ron pulled his arm out from under the bed with lightning speed, sending the fat, hairy spider that had started climbing up it flying across the room. It struck the wall furthest from him, and then fell to lay still on the floor, but Ron continued to back away from it. In his haste to escape, he forgot to dodge the bedside cabinet, and while attempting to steady both it and himself, his flailing arms sent everything on top of it tumbling to the floor. A huge book - Hermione's, of course - landed open, the cover facing upwards, with a massive thud.

Ron cursed quietly, and scooped to retrieve it; Hermione was very particular about her books (it was ridiculous, really - she treated them like they were children or something, for Merlin's sake!) and she absolutely hated it when the spines got damaged. As he lifted it gingerly back onto the cabinet, he noticed a crumpled piece of parchment tucked into the back page. Curious, he pulled the sheet out, and smoothed it, his eyes traveling over the familiar handwriting, taking in words he hadn't seen in nearly a year.

_**[S]My Vows[/S]**_

_**[S]My Wedding Vows[/S]**_

_**Action Plans**_

_**Option One - Panic!**_

...

Bugger. Buggerbuggerbuggerbugger.

And double bugger!

XxX

_**Option Two - Let her go first**_

Emm...Well, I ...I pretty much think you covered it, Hermione. There wasn't one thing on this piece of paper that you...

Yeah, so...I'm sorry. I tried, I seriously did! It wasn't that I didn't put in the effort, it was just...more a lack of ideas, really. I mean, words have always been more your thing, haven't they? You know, all those books and trips to the library and all that other boring stuff you did at Hogw-

Ahem. Well, you're just better at it, aren't you? But I really did try to write something - I even asked Dad and Perce and Harry and _everyone_, but...

You know, for guys that have all been married, they haven't got a clue about romantic stuff! And I couldn't face Mum or Ginny - I know they'd have been able to tell me all the right mushy, gushy stuff to say, but...that's my _dad_ and my _best friend_, for Merlin's sake! It just would have been wrong, so...

Ermmm...yeah. What you said.

XxX

_**Option Three - Fill the time: Tell some stories...**_

Well, it's taken us pretty long time to get here, hasn't it? *Pause for laughter* I'm sure there's plenty of people here today who've wanted to give us a good kick up the arse - I mean backside, sorry minister! - but we uhh..we made it eventually, even after all the difficulties we've faced.

And there were a lot of them when you think about it, wasn't there?

I mean, obviously the whole 'battling-against-You-Know-Who-for-the-good-of-Wizard-kind' thing was a bit stressful, (*possible break for applause - speak slowly*) but even before that. Not everything we've done to each other over the years exactly cries true love, does it?

Like the time you bewitched those birds to attack me - which bloody hurt, by the way! I won't be annoying you after we're married *another laughter break* - because you caught me getting it on with Laven-

Or the time in first year, remember? When I didn't realize you were behind me and Harry, and I called you-

I mean, you've seen me puking up slugs, for Merlin's sake! I'm surprised we even made it this far-

Oh, bugger it. The point is, I'm glad we've made it past all that now.

Probably best just to move on to the rings now, before I screw it up again.

XxX

_**Option Four - Tell the Truth.**_

Okay, here goes.

I've decided I'm just going to tell you how I really feel, and if I screw it up...well, hopefully you'll still want to marry me anyway. After all, if you really think about, I've probably done worse. *pause* Actually, I have done worse. *smile sheepishly - hopefully she laughs.*

Hermione, I love you. That's the only way I can sum it up, really. I love you, and deep down, I think I always have.

Unfortunately for you, it took me a while to figure it out, and even after I did - to be honest, I _might_ owe Krum for that..without him, we probably still wouldn't be standing here - I was too stubborn to admit it. I _will _admit that I acted like a bloody prat some of the time...well, alright then, _most_ of the time...and I probably deserved it when you set those birds on me, but no matter what I did, I've never cared about anyone as much as I have for you. And I never will.

Fortunately for me, you seem to get that now...so with a bit of luck, I'll never see those bloo- erm...little birds again! But uhhh...even if I do, I won't mind. Well, I probably will at the _time_, obviously, but in the long run? It won't matter. Any life we have will be perfect. Because _you're_ perfect. I mean, don't get me wrong - you're not _actually_ perfect. You're a real bright spark and you know it, which makes you pretty smug and superior at times, and you usually act and sound like you've swallowed a dictionary - _several_ dictionaries - and you can be downright bloody annoying at times, if I'm honest...

But errrr...well, I love you. So I guess what I'm trying to say is that...

You might not be perfect, Hermione Granger, but you're perfect enough for me.

XxX

"Interesting read?" Her voice came from behind him, soft and amused, making him jump. He hadn't even heard her open the door.

"Errr...yeah." He smiled, embarrassed. "I didn't know you'd kept these." He gestured towards her with the parchment.

"Of course I did." She smiled back at him easily, moving to loop her arms gently around his neck. "I thought they were incredibly funny."

"You did?" he asked incredulously, raising his eyebrows.

"Of course I did, Ron." There was a moment's pause, and then she went on. "_After_ the wedding, obviously." She chuckled, and pulled her body closer to his. "If you'd chosen anything other than Option Four, I probably would've _had _to set those birds on you again."

Ron laughed too. "I know you would have," he replied, sounding half-amused, half-fearful as he lowered his head to kiss her. He paused just before he reached her lips, and then grinned cheekily. "Why do you think I chose it?"

* * *

**A/N:** As usual, please review! I can't wait for the next round! :)

Oh, and by the way, the **[s]...[/s]** stuff is supposed to be strike-out text - my computer wouldn't recognise it for some reason :\ Just in case anyone was wondering :)


	4. Forbidden Freedom

**A/N:** Here you have it, people - entry number 4! :D

**Gryffindor **FTW! :P

A massive thanks go to Jay (**msllamalover**), my fabulous beta and characterisation whiz! :D

The character I was assigned was **Luna Lovegood**, and the character I chose to pair her with was **Draco Malfoy**.

I never, ever thought I'd write that sentence, but there you have it. This takes place when Draco was in 7th year, and Luna was in 6th, after the Golden Trio left Hogwarts. Let's just delve right in and hope it goes well... Enjoy! :)

* * *

_The first time, he was in the forest, seeking an escape. He never dreamed that he could find it, though. Especially not with her._

"Is he the first person that you've seen die?"

Draco jumped. He'd come here to be alone, to get away from everyone and everything and every thought he simply didn't seem to able to tune out when he was back _there_, where it had happened, where everything had started to go wrong...Couldn't he even have that? After everything, was it really too much to ask? He didn't recognise the quiet, dreamy voice, but as he turned to glare at the intruder, and tell them to just get lost, he found he _did_ recognise the face.

"What did you say, _Loony_?" He asked, mustering up some of his usual sneering bravado. The kind that normally made people wary, and decide to leave him the hell alone.

However, instead of looking hurt, or offended, Luna simply tilted her head sympathetically.

"Oh dear," she murmured in her airy, musical voice. "Did a Wrackspurt get you?" She moved closer, clearly not discouraged by his scorn, a fact which both annoyed and confused him. Why didn't she just leave, like everyone else would have, and let him suffer in peace? And what in Merlin's name was a wrackspurt? He was right to sneer - this girl _was _strange_._

He moved pointedly away from her as she sank gracefully onto the fprest floor next to him, and brushed imaginary dirt off his robes where they had connected briefly with her own. Anything to just make her _go_, already! But she didn't even appear to notice. Instead, she half-reached out to one of the huge black horses in the clearing, as though to pat it, or something equally ridiculous, and spoke to him again.

"I asked if Professor Dumbledore was the only person you've seen die." Draco felt his insides curl up at the sound of that name - shrinking away from all the pain and trouble it had caused him, and how badly he'd hoped the old wizard would live, despite everything...But Luna seemed oblivious. She just carried on talking, explaining her question.

"The Thestrals...you can see them now." She gestured in the direction of the massive winged creatures, her voice calm and flowing, simply stating the facts. "They only appear to those who have seen death, you know - my mum died when I was little, so I've been able to see them for a while. Beautiful, aren't they?"

Draco felt his ears prick and his eyebrows rise ever so slightly as she revealed that piece of information. Her attention was still turned towards the Thestral nearest her, her eyes full of the same dreamy wonderment as always, and he used it as an opportunity to study her face slyly. Was she really so okay with her situation? Draco was practically an adult, and the image of the Headmaster's body, broken and hanging in mid-air still haunted his dreams. How could someone witness something as horrible as death so young, and be so...alright with it?

And yet, she did seem alright. There was no pain etched across her features. Instead, there was only peace - a perfect, endless peace that Draco could feel himself long for. An escape from the nightmares, a haven in the cruel reality that had become - perhaps had always _been_ - his life. He craved that peace. More than anything, he wanted it. So if talking to this girl could give him even the slightest inkling of how to get it...

And suddenly, unfathomably, Draco found himself opening up to her.

"No," he muttered quietly, his eyes flickering from her face to the ground, and Luna turned back to him. He glanced upwards once more, and saw a mild surprise spread across her features.

"Really? I think they're lovely...they have quite a bad reputation, you know, but-"

"No, I meant Dumble-" Draco paused, unable to say it. He took a deep breath. "I've seen more than one person die, that's all," he finished shortly. Charity Burbage's face flashed into his mind, her fear clear as Nagini slithered towards her...Draco felt his body shudder involuntarily, and saw understanding grace Luna's face. Losing his nerve however, and unable to quell his rapidly growing desire to change the subject - even if it meant losing his only chance at finding a recluse from his emotions - he jutted out his chin and answered her other question.

"Lovely isn't exactly the word I'd use to describe them though," he said, voice once more full of scorn, the corners of his mouth turning down in disdain as one came nearer. "_Awful_ looking beasts, if you ask me."

Luna shrugged easily. "Things aren't always what they seem to be, I've found." She turned her body to face him, and Draco was struck by the simple honesty in her next words.

"Like you, for example." She gazed at him directly. "I know lots of people that think _you're_ awful, and you can be, on the outside." He felt the shock register on his face before it registered in his brain. He certainly wasn't used to people talking to him like that - so openly, and without fear. And _Lovegood_, of all people! What did she know about him?

Luna carried on talking, undeterred, in the same fluid, unabashed manner she always had. "But really, I think you could probably be quite lovely too, underneath. If you wanted to be. I think you're just scared to show people the real you in case they still didn't like you - that really _would_ be awful for you, wouldn't it?"

Apparently, she knew more than he thought. How had she done that? It was like she'd just reached into his soul and pulled out the very essence of his being, in a way that no-one else had ever been able to...or maybe had just never tried to.

So many people had been willing to take him at face value, that after a while, Draco had started to become that person. The person his parents wanted him to be, the person who people like Crabbe and Goyle expected him to be... Was it possible there was someone who he could be himself with? Admit he was frightened to? Show his weaknesses, his fears, and still have them around?

"I..." he started, wanting nothing more than to try it - to pour himself out to this whimsical girl, and see how she reacted. "I guess..."

Luna smiled gently, her large, silvery eyes fixed on his grey ones.

"I guess you really _are_ just as Loony as they say, aren't you Lovegood?" He bottled, allowing a familiar smirk to fall into place. After all, Malfoys were strong. Yet as a flash of emotion marred her face, Draco felt another urge to retract his words, to admit he was weak...but he couldn't. He had a role to play.

And as Luna fixed him with a small, sad smile, Draco almost believed that she understood that.

"I suppose I am, really." She paused, her eyes distant, yet somehow piercing at the same time. "But I imagine it's far better to just be yourself than to have to be someone normal, isn't it?"

He could only look at her, and once more she displayed that captivating intuition she seemed to possess as she murmured, "Goodbye, Draco."

Because he had to leave here. Leave _her_. This wasn't right, no matter how he looked at it. Something strange was happening, something he didn't understand, something he wasn't sure he wanted to.

But it was too late. A change, even if only a tiny one, had already taken place. The facade was breaking - while he should have carried on, sweeping away from her without another word, or a backwards glance, he couldn't.

"Goodbye." Their eyes locked momentarily, and something - some brief moment of understanding, of..._kinship_? - flickered between them, before he turned on his heel and disappeared into the trees.

XXX

_The second time was in the Owlery, late one night when he assumed everyone else would have been in bed. But not her. And this time, he recognised the voice._

"You shouldn't really be wandering around alone this late, you know - Nargles are more active at night, and they're known to steal things from unsuspecting people. There's safety in numbers."

He turned from where he'd been watching his Eagle-Owl fly off to face her, her long silvery hair shining in the moonlight, and offered her a half-smile, half-smirk.

"Oh really? So what are you doing walking around by yourself, then?"

She smiled back at him. "Hunting for them, of course. They aren't a very well-known species, and I'm hoping to get enough information about them to write a new article for dad's magazine." She spoke as though it was the most obvious thing in the world - like it was strange _not_ to walk around hunting Nargles in the dead of night - and Draco couldn't help it. He let out a quiet laugh, only thinking afterwards about how it might offend her - he knew she took her father's work very seriously, and he hadn't exactly been nice about it in the past...

But he needn't have worried. Luna, as always, reacted in her own way. She laughed along with him, and Draco was surprised by how pleasant the sound was - compared to the deep, thick snorts of Crabbe and Goyle, hers was airy and attractive, much like the rest of her personality. After a few seconds, their laughter trailed off, and Luna smiled again.

"So...what are you doing up here?"

Draco hesitated, then shrugged. "I was just...writing to my mother. I don't really get to hear from her much anymore." It was true - now that the Dark Lord had taken over Malfoy Manor, he'd found that his mother wrote less and less frequently, and he missed it. Missed _her_.

"You miss her." She said it quietly - a statement, not a question, once again displaying her apparent ability to read his mind. She wasn't like anyone he'd ever met before. It fascinated him how she was able to _see _things, even when they were veiled behind layers of deceit. She saw _him_. And he couldn't deny; he liked it.

"Yes," he murmured, nodding. And then he fixed his eyes on hers, and spoke more gently than he ever remembered speaking to anyone in his life. "Do you...miss your mother?"

Luna blinked for a moment, before slowly nodding. "Sometimes; it would be nice if I could talk to her at all, even if it wasn't very often." Draco scruntinized her face carefully - maybe her life wasn't as peaceful as he'd first guessed. But then she shrugged softly. "I've gotten used to being alone, though - so most of the time, it isn't that bad."

Draco suppressed the unfamiliar urge to comfort someone - he didn't move to hug her, like his instinct bid him, but instead contemplated her logic silently. He missed his mother, of course he did, and he would love for things to return to the way they had been. But to be alone, too, had its appeal. Nobody to please, nobody to prove himself to...if he could be completely free from judgement and fear of it, like Luna seemed to be...

"I..." This time, he didn't let the hesitation crush him - she had opened up, and so could he. "I wish I could be alone, sometimes."

Luna was still for a moment, studying him, and then ducked her head. "Well, I should probably leave you then..." She turned towards the staircase, and he nearly kicked himself.

"No!" he exclaimed. He should have said 'free', not 'alone' - the last thing he found he wanted was for her to go, and leave him trapped inside the cage that was his body; not when he was so sure now that she held - _was_ - the key that could set his soul free.

Hearing his voice, Luna stopped and turned back to face him, an indecipherable look on her face. Draco took a deep breath, and then offered her a tentative smile.

"I mean...maybe you should teach me how to hunt Nargles. You know, just in case one tries to attack me on the way back to my common-room or something." He shrugged, trying for nonchalance, although he could feel the desperate need for her not to go.

And maybe Luna could see it, because after a few seconds she smiled warmly back, and nodded. "Alright," she agreed, moving closer to him, and Draco's smile stretched more widely across his face. "It's really fairly simple..."

XXX

_After that, they met up nearly every night, away from the pressures and the prying eyes and the parts they had to play. When it was just them, together, they were different. They were friends. They were free._

"Well of course they don't like you," she teased, nudging him playfully as they sat side by side in the Owlery. "You're Draco _Malfoy_ around them, not just _Draco_, like you are with me." A giggle escaped her lips as he scowled.

"Still," he muttered stubbornly, before he gave in and grinned at her good-humour. "Do they have to swarm about like I'm going to attack you if I so much as glance at you in the corridor? I thought they knew we were...friends now, even if they don't want to accept it." He folded his arms childishly across his chest, but again, she just rolled her eyes and nudged him gently out of it. Just like she had nudged him out from behind his mask of Malfoy, to reveal the Draco he kept underneath.

After a few minutes of sitting in comfortable silence, Luna broached a subject that was always fairly touchy with them...the idea of him showing that Draco to the rest of the school.

"Well, maybe if you just found a way to get to know them, and let them get to know you...You'd be really good as a part of Dumbledore's Army, you know, it's-"

He felt himself flinch at the mention of that name and the memories it dredged up in his mind, and Luna cut off abruptly. There were a few brief seconds of a different silence, and then she spoke again, her animated voice suddenly sweet and remorseful.

"I'm sorry I said that, Draco," she murmured softly, placing her hand on his arm.

He found himself trying to put the mask back in place, and use the bravado that protected him from having to deal with the emotions that were so strong inside him. "Said what?" He tried, breezily, but his hand crept along to hers and intertwined with it, squeezing gently. Betraying vulnerability.

"You know what I'm talking about...you don't like hearing his name, do you?" Again, her simple honesty pierced straight through to his soul. He didn't answer her, and she squeezed his hand back.

"Draco..." Still, she spoke in whispers, but her voice had taken on a strong, sincere edge, like she was about to say something of vital importance. Even so, he couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze. She waited for a bit, and then, evidently, decided to go on regardless.

"I've let go of what happened, Draco...last year, I mean." With his eyes firmly trained on the floor, she couldn't see his reaction, but if he had been looking at her, Draco knew she would have seen a spark of hope flare inside them. Did she really mean that? Could she really dismiss that part of his life, without judging him? He found himself listening with more fervour as she went on. "So many people in life make up their mind about me before they really know me, that...I try never to do it to anyone else."

She paused, and he could feel her gaze burning intently into the side of his face; could guess what she wanted. Slowly, finally, he allowed his gaze to lock with hers, and she gave him a small smile.

"I've seen a side to you that I don't think anyone else sees. _That's_ the part I care about."

Draco took a second to process what she was saying. She was right, of course - she _had_ seen a side to him that he'd never shown to anyone else before, a side of him that he'd kept hidden away behind a layer of mocking and pride. But then - why _her_? What was it that had made him open up to her so fully, so completely, and show her the real him?

Deep down, he knew he already knew the answer to that question - he'd known it since the first day she'd spoken to him in the forest, and they'd shared that first brief flash of _something_. So, with every bone in his body urging him to tell her, he took a deep breath and opened his mouth.

"Luna...that side, that part of me, well...you're the only person that's ever _let_ me show it."

And then, without even thinking about it, he slowly, slowly leaned his body into hers, their hands still intertwined in his lap. Her eyes widened as she realised what he was doing, and then fluttered closed, the corners of the sweet mouth turning upwards as though in anticipation of what she knew was to come. Taking another deep breath - something he seemed to do a lot these days, he noticed - Draco shut his own eyes too, and then finally, torturously brushed his mouth against her own.

It was magnetism - he felt his own body drawn inexplicably closer to hers, his hands moving to tangle in her sleek, silvery hair as his lips pressed more firmly against hers, and their mouths opened, deepening the kiss.

It was electricity - she made a hum of contentment low in her throat at the sparks their mouths, their tongues were creating, like a raging fire was on the precipice of beginning in the infinitesimal gap between their bodies.

It was a law unto itself, a force of nature like no other. Draco couldn't find any other way to describe the feeling that fusing his mouth with hers created in him, because above all - above the undeniable magnetism, above the sizzling electricity - _that_ was how it felt to be kissing Luna. Natural. Easy. Like as long as he clung onto her, he was free.

* * *

**A/N**: Hope I did them justice, reviews are love! :D


End file.
